


Flush

by Birdbitch



Category: DCU
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Marathon Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-03
Updated: 2011-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:12:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdbitch/pseuds/Birdbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When something is off about Dick, Bruce fears the worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flush

He is so far beyond gone when he comes, splattering the space between him and Bruce and leaving pearly streaks in Bruce’s body hair. He’s too loud, can’t stop shouting and making the entire bed shake and then, all of a sudden, he’s quite and slumped down and he feels fucked stupid, like he has no brain left. It’s gone. Bruce took it with everything else and Dick actually feels alright about that because Bruce is a really, really great lay anyways and even more so when he’s in love with you.

He almost doesn’t even hear Bruce asking if he went too far, and he just smiles up at him with his top row of teeth barely peeking out from his lips, and the look on Bruce’s face—that’s not right. He shouldn’t be panicking. They just fucked. They fucked and it was good—no, it was better than good, it was amazing. Bruce should be wearing the same dazed expression Dick has. So Dick whines, tries pulling him back down for a third round. Third? No, no, maybe fourth. He can’t remember. He just knows that he can’t get enough, not tonight, no—he needs Bruce’s hands on him, touching him and bringing him to the edge and jumping off with him. His own wouldn’t be enough.

But Bruce—he’s worried and try as Dick might to bring him back down, he won’t. Instead, he asks about the patrol from that night. Dick bites his lip, grinds down on his own hand because Bruce is out of bed and pulling on a robe and pajama bottoms, panicking. Bruce never panics, and Dick wants to cry because he doesn’t want Bruce to feel bad. He just wants him to feel good. He wants them both to feel good. 

"I can’t remember what happened," he says before crying into the pillow under him and attempting to rub himself off. It doesn’t matter what happened, he just needs some kind of friction, anything, but Bruce—he wants Bruce’s hands around him, fucking him hard into the bed, and he wants to scream and moan and let himself drool around Bruce’s thick fingers in his mouth because he won’t have any control, and Bruce isn’t paying attention. 

"Who did you fight tonight?" The anger makes Dick even more upset, and when Bruce grabs him to try to hold him still, he kisses Bruce hard. "I’m going to ask Damian. Stay here."

"No, no, Bruce, please, don’t leave, I need you, I need to feel you in me, Bruce—" the door slams shut on him and he doesn’t know what’s happening. He can’t get that nice, relaxed state after the sex he and Bruce usually have—no, he’s got to have something in him and he teases himself, ruts against the bedsheets as he presses his finger into himself, waiting for Bruce to come in and take him again.

When Bruce comes back, Dick’s crying because he needs to be touched. “Why didn’t you tell me you went up against Ivy?” he asks, trying to pin Dick down to the bed.

"It didn’t—doesn’t matter—Bruce, I just needed you, I need you right now—"

"Tim, hand me the syringe and help me hold him still." Dick’s head lolls to where Tim is at his side. 

"Tim," he tries pleading with him, "Tim, I don’t need it, please, tell him. Tell him that I just need him, not—" He screams and thrashes when the needle head pushes into his arm. 

Tim holds his head, smoothing his face, trying to keep him from seeing how much anti-serum Bruce has to push into his body. “Dick, Dick, you were poisoned. It’s going to be alright. I promise. Dick. Stay with me. You’re going to be alright. You can’t take anymore.”

Dick turns his head and cries against Tim’s knees, biting his bottom lip because it hurts. It hurts like his heart is being ripped out. He’s starting to come to his senses, starting to realize just how rough he and Bruce were—four rounds of sex after a full patrol? His throat hurts and his fingers hurt and his thighs hurt and everything hurts. He can feel the anti-serum attacking Ivy’s newest poison, and it hurts. He wants to thrash again, but Bruce’s arms have him held tight so he can’t move and the anti-serum can take its course around his body without getting sent off track. 

"Bruce, Bruce, it hurts. It hurts so much." Alfred is running in with God knows what, Dick can’t see. He’s about to pass out. He can’t stay awake in this much pain. He can’t. He doesn’t even feel bad when he blacks out.

*

He wakes up to Alfred changing a cold towel on his head to a slightly warmer one. “I ruined everything, didn’t I?” he asks, a searing headache coming on. Alfred was prepared for that, too, and hands him an Asprin and glass of water. 

"I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Master Richard," Alfred says, a hint of concern in his voice. 

"He’s never going to touch me again."

Alfred snorts and hides away the romance novel that Dick swears he didn’t see him reading. “Hardly, sir. He’s been checking on you constantly. Asked if he could change your clothes for you, in fact.” Dick closes his eyes and drops his head back down on the pillow. “The only reason he’s not here right now is because he’s out on patrol.” 

Dick rolls his head to look at Alfred. “I should have told him the second I got back who it was.” Alfred shrugs, as if to say, ‘perhaps.’ “He must have been furious.”

"Not with you," Alfred offers. He looks at the watch on his wrist. "You’ve been out for three days, sir. Are you hungry?"

Truth be told, Dick’s starving. “I don’t know what I can handle,” he says. 

"Soup might be a good option." It’s not Alfred, but Bruce. "Alfred, I can cover if you go get it." Alfred nods, gives Dick a pat on the shoulder, and leaves. "Dick."

Dick clenches his eyes shut. “Bruce, I’m sorry. I was an idiot and I should have—”

“You’re the idiot?” Bruce sits down on the edge of his bed and stares at Dick, a hurt look running across his face. “Dick, I could have—I might have broken you and I didn’t even realize that it was beyond your limits.” He swallows. “You didn’t know, Dick. And I should have the moment you came into the room.” 

Dick sits up and reaches with a hand towards Bruce. “I need a hug.” 

"Dick—"

"No. Hug. Now." And it feels good to have Bruce’s arms around him. Not the ecstasy feeling from Ivy’s poison, but something good that Dick doesn’t ever want to lose. He hiccups against Bruce’s shoulder and squeezes him tighter. 

"Am I interrupting anything?" It’s Damian. Dick almost bursts into tears because what if it had been him who had gotten infected? What would it have done to him, if it knocked Dick out for three days? 

"Come here, Dami." He motions with his arms and Damian sprints into the hug. "Are you alright?"

"You almost die and you ask me if I’m alright?” Damian squeezes him. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, Richard. I don’t want to have to worry about who to kill in the event of your death.” 

Dick chuckles—it hurts, but he lets it out anyways. “You wouldn’t have killed your father, Damian,” he whispers, low enough so that Bruce can’t hear it. 

"If he killed you, I would have," Damian answers back. He pulls back and wipes at his face. "I’m happy that you are…well, Richard." 

Dick glances from Damian to Bruce and back. “So am I. How long were you on patrol with your dad, Dami?”

Damian mutters something, and Bruce gives him a look. “I think he’s telling you to go to bed, Damian,” he says. Damian shoots him a glare before hugging Dick again.

"I l-love you, Richard. You’re not allowed to leave me alone with these imbeciles." 

Dick laughs outright and kisses Damian on the forehead. “I understand, Damian. Now go get some sleep.”

"I want to sleep in here."

"Damian—"

"No, Bruce—" Dick puts a hand on his chest. "If he wants to sleep here, that’s fine. There’s enough room for all of us." 

Apparently, that’s good enough for Damian, because he lets out a yawn. “Actually, I think Father’s right. I should go back to my own room.”

"Are you sure?"

Damian smiles. “Yes. I will see you in the morning.” He leaves, and Bruce and Dick are alone again. 

Bruce pushes back some of Dick’s hair from his face. “You treat him too much like a child,” he says.

Dick catches his hand and kisses his wrist. “You don’t treat him enough like one. Bruce,” he tries to pull Bruce onto the bed with him, but it takes extra effort from Bruce to pull that off. “I love you.” 

And Bruce kisses him, soft and like he thinks Dick might break at a single touch. “I love you to,” he says. “I don’t ever want to do that to you ever again.” Dick leans over and kisses him. 

"You won’t have to."


End file.
